The Lost Winchester
by ParaCaerOuVoar
Summary: ‘Who here knows of the lost Winchester, the one not mentioned in any history books, religious or otherwise? Even of those who were there, few can say they knew him, even fewer met him, and less than a dozen knew he actually existed.’//CONTAINS OC, GEN
1. 1983

Yeah, I know, another fic when I have so many on the go. This is written for spn_teamfic over at livejournal, the prompt being 'Son when you grow up, will you be, the savior of the broken, the beaten and damned' Welcome to the black parade, My Chemical Romance.

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Title- The Lost Winchester.

Disclaimer- I own nothing. A phrase which, whenever I see Dean Winchester, causes me great sadness.

A/N- This is the prologue and first chapter of hopefully a much longer fic I have planned. I'll post as much as I can in these two weeks, and hopefully you'll keep reading after the challenge is finished. Starts pre series, this chapter covers the 20 or so years between 1983 and Sam at Stanford. Also, points for people who can tell me who Joseph Grantham is, without googling him.

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_As long as there has been language, there have been stories. Tales of heroes from old, fighting monsters. St George killed the dragon, Beowulf slew Grendel, David stoned Goliath. Children were transfixed in bed, listening to fables and fairy tales, bible stories in the guise of an action filled setting. The most loved and revered story is one of an almighty battle between purest good and darkest evil, Lucifer himself rising up from the bowels of hell. This story takes its place in the bible, well deserved of the honour. It is known to children as the Winchester Chronicles, but to everyone else, it is simply the book of the apocalypse._

_The names of Sam and Dean Winchester, and their angel Castiel are known the world over, as is their father, John, who died for a valiant cause, ensuring we would all be saved from damnation when the time came. Mary was the first to die, setting a chain of events in motion that would play out over decades, rocking the family to their core and stretching the bonds of brotherhood further than should be possible. But who here knows of the lost Winchester, the one not mentioned in any history books, religious or otherwise? Even of those who were there, few can say they knew him, even fewer met him, and less than a dozen knew he actually existed._

_The lost Winchester was the lit match that refused to die out; the person that kept them together when bonds stronger than family threatened to break them apart. He was there during the darkest hours, watching them, caring when no one else did. He was, in essence, the father they never had._

_In short, Alex Winchester was the proverbial Joseph Grantham of his time. Who remembers him? No one told his story, so it is in his honour that we recall the other unsung hero, so that he isn't forgotten, and nor is what he did._

_This is his story._

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When he first heard about the fire at John's place, he was the first there. He even beat the emergency services. He didn't go forward though. Instead he watched from the shadows, knowing his presence wouldn't be welcome here, and hadn't been for ten years. Since 1973, his world had been turned upside down, by talk of demons, ghosts, ghouls and a fucking A-Z of preternatural shit.

He hadn't always been a hunter, he had once been a mechanic, owning a chain of garages all over the Deep South, until one night, he had witnessed something. He had been stumbling home from the local bar when he had come across a disturbing scene. His brother lay dead on the path, Mary, his girlfriend cradling his head. Some way away, a man stood, a familiar stranger somehow. His jade eyes belonged to Mary, but his face was more like Alex's brothers. He didn't understand. He claimed to be John and Mary's son, but how?

Alex followed him, as he walked away; suddenly as sober as he had been that morning. He followed him to an out of the way clearing in the woods, where he was joined by another man, with black hair and azure eyes. They glanced around furtively, before the black haired man placed his palm flat against the other's forehead and they vanished, apparently into thin air.

Alex spent the next few weeks searching for this mysterious pair, ending up with only dead ends and fairy stories. However, in his search he discovered many things. Humans were not alone in this world. There were things out there, things that went bump in the night. The monsters from books and films, preying on people, innocent people. One night, he came across an old bar, the Roadhouse, met a guy called Bill and his wife Ellen, and never looked back. For the next ten years he travelled across the continental US, killing creatures and learning more each time. Every so often he swung by Lawrence, Kansas, watching his brother, magically alive again- the work of a demon, he now knew- and his wife live their lives, a normal life, one he should have been living. One day he was caught watching them by Mary, now three months pregnant, and she told him everything.

She told him of her life as a hunter, before she met John, and the deal she had made to bring him back to life. She urged him to keep this from John; she had turned her back on her old life, for the sake of her new family.

Alex left with her blessing, and a promise to keep his brother safe from the darkness.

On the evening of November 2nd 1983, he was passing through when he saw the blaze up ahead. Intending to help, he raced towards it, coming to a sudden halt as he saw the origin of the fire. A small boy, no more than four or five, a bundle in his arms scrambled to safety out of the house, gathered up in strong arms and carried out of reach of the spiraling flames and then, ultimately, the explosion that claimed the entire house. He also saw what no one else did. He saw his brother fall to his knees and cry. The small boy patted his father on the shoulder, and Alex saw, in the light from the fire, the very same jade eyes he'd seen ten years ago. 'Well I'll be damned…' he muttered. He was watching the kid so intently he didn't notice the approach of John, rapping on the window, his face twisted by anger and underlying grief. In the background the boy held up the bundle, his lips moving as he talked to it, and Alex realised it was a baby, wide eyed and innocent. Alex rolled the window of his truck down resignedly. 'Hello John,' he said simply.

'What do you think you're doing here?' he growled. Alex was the older brother, but John's large frame and fierce temper were things he'd feared while growing up, and still did.

'I saw the flames, came to help. I didn't know it was you guys. Is Mary…' he trailed off, half-knowing the answer.

'She was in the nursery with Sammy, I couldn't get her.' He choked the words out, his face contorting with the emotions running across it.

'Sammy,' sighed Alex. The nephew he would never know.

'I don't want you here.' Alex had been expecting those words, but they still cut him deep.

'You gonna call the cops on me again, John?'Alex asked softly.

'No. Not this time. They'll be here soon anyway, so get your ass out of here.'

Alex sighed and rolled up the window, John going back to his sons, scooping baby Sammy up in one arm and the boy in the other. '_Goodbye, John'_ he thought, somehow knowing that this would be the last time he spoke with his brother. He drove off, watching the fire engines and panda cars arrive, surrounding the house and its occupants, grieving quietly and alone, for his fellow fallen hunter, remembering the year it all went wrong between him and John.

--

_1975_

_Austin, Texas_

_He'd come home, a rare visit, a break from hunting the scum of the earth. His mother and father had been pleased to see him, showering him with hugs and handshakes as he told them about his business. That was his lie. He told them he was working in Louisiana at a new garage, trying to get it off the ground. They believed him, and no questions were asked. His brother had been absent, with his fiancée Mary. Alex liked Mary, she was good for John. She had saved his life two years ago, and he would always be grateful for that._

_Eventually he came home, and the Winchesters were together again, if only for a short while. Until their father, Adam Winchester, went missing. Alex used his new skills to track him and his kidnappers to a barn just outside of Austin. It had been abandoned years ago, and more research provided Alex with an answer. Vampires. If they didn't kill his father, they would turn him. He needed dead man's blood and a machete. He gathered his material with little trouble and went to the nest, intending to kill every last bloodsucker in there._

_What he didn't know was that John had followed him, curious about his brother's middle of the day disappearances. What did he know that everyone else didn't?_

_The vampire nest was smaller than Alex had anticipated, and he killed most of them with ease. Until he heard heavy footsteps behind him, and turned to see his brother standing there, mouth open in shock._

'_Alex?' he asked finally, when he had overcome to the shock._

'_It's not what it looks like, I promise.'_

'_Really? Cos what it looks like is you decapitating innocent people, and-' He was cut off by a shriek from upstairs, where hay had been kept. 'What was that?'_

'_You don't wanna know,' said Alex, cautiously moving towards the rotten looking ladder, drawing his machete. 'Alex, tell me what's going on, or I'm calling the cops.'_

'_On your own brother? You would do that?'_

_John hesitated, the sunlight creeping in through the slats in the wood illuminating his struggle. 'Yes,' he said finally, but he didn't look or sound very committed to his decision. Alex took the chance and ascended the ladder gingerly. Suddenly, something flipped out from the croft, landing on the floor with a thud. Alex twisted, jumping from the ladder awkwardly, but landing on his feet between the vampire and his brother. He swung the machete, pulling the strike at the last minute as he realised who stood in front of him. It was his father, or it used to be. New vampires were messy feeders, and blood had dried on his face, fleck sticking to his beard, along with sinews from the neck of his last meal, and his eyes were wild, feral, like a cat. Alex took a breath. This thing wasn't his father. It wasn't. He chanted this over and over again, swinging the machete. It connected, slicing through flesh like wire through cheese. The body fell to its knees, the head falling to the ground, animal eyes now sightless, misting over. He turned to John, breathing heavily with exertion. He tested his ankle, a jolt of pain shooting through it when he landed it. It wasn't broken, just sprained maybe. He limped out to his truck, dragging John with him gently. 'That was Dad,' his brother growled, fisting his hands in Alex's jacket and lifting him three inches off the ground._

'_No,' he gasped, struggling to breathe. 'Not anymore.'_

'_You're a murderer,' he snapped, pulling his brother in close, so their noses were inches apart. 'You killed Dad, and all those people.'_

'_They weren't people,' Alex was turning red from frustration and lack of oxygen. 'None of them were.'_

'_Then what, Alex? How are you justifying killing all those people?'_

'_Trust me kid. You wouldn't believe me.'_

_John dropped him suddenly, and he landed on his bad ankle, more than likely damaging it more than it was already. 'Get out of here,' he snarled. 'I don't want to see you ever again. You have half an hour to get out of town, then I'm calling the cops.'_

_Alex coughed, gulping in lungfuls of air. 'You don't need to do this.'_

'_Yes. I do,' he said, turning and walking away.' You won't get another free pass. Go.'_

_Alex rummaged in his truck for lighter fluid and his matches, dousing the barn and setting it alight. As the barn burned, Alex watched his brother, trudging down the dirt road, staring at his feet. 'Goodbye, baby brother,' he muttered, climbing in his truck and getting out of town. If nothing else, John was a man of his word._

_The next time he would face his brother would be eight years later, and there would be nothing he could do to save him, or his family._

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Over the next two decades, Alex Winchester was there, but not there. He watched John discover the truth at Missouri's, and learn that his wife had been killed by a demon. He watched him go on his first hunt, emerging battered and bloody but victorious. And more than anything, he watch John's two sons grow up like soldiers. The boy- Dean, he found out- could take a gun apart and put it back to together by the age of eight and when Sam complained of monsters in the closet at the age of nine, he was given not a reassuring hug and a cursory search of the aforementioned cupboard, but a shotgun. As they grew older he watched Dean turn into his father, taking over the role that should have been John's looking after Sam, keeping him safe. He watched Sam distance himself from his life more and more, eventually running away to California, his father's threat ringing in his ears. '_If you walk out that door, don't bother coming back!'_

It shocked him that John could be so callous to his own child, but losing Mary had changed him, and twenty years of hunting demons had hardened him, until he wasn't Alex's brother anymore. He was just John, the Hunter.

And Alex missed his baby brother more than he missed his own father.


	2. Pilot

Thanks for the reviews guy!

Things may be a little confusing this chapter, but I'll try and explain things as I go. Also, these first few chapters will be a little slow moving until Sam actually meets Alex and so on.

I still don't own Supernatural. Shocking.

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Alex sat in his truck, outside Stanford University. It was late, and he was tired, but he'd told Dean he would be here, so here he was. He could see the battered Impala on the corner. He still couldn't believe John had given it to him. John had loved that car more than anything, and Dean was, accident prone, to say the least, so when he found Dean driving the Impala, his first thought was '_Idiot. Stealing John's prized possession. He's gonna beat your ass._'

Dean claimed that John had given it to him, and while the kid was clumsy, he wasn't a liar, so Alex let it go. He shivered, wrapping his hands around a takeaway cup of coffee that he'd insisted on if he was going to be doing recon. He sipped it, wondering how Dean was doing. He was probably in the apartment now; he was a genius with a lock pick, once you stopped him from kicking the door down as soon as he saw it. After about ten minutes or so, Dean came out, accompanied by Sam, who appeared to have grown about three inches since he'd last seen him. They climbed into the Impala and drive off, Dean looking over at Alex, concealed in his truck, making sure he was following as they pulled away.

It had been Dean's idea not to tell Sam about Alex yet, so he was keeping his distance, ready to offer a hand when and if they needed it. Not that they would in all likelihood, Dean had been actively hunting for ten years, studying the job for twenty, and was a skilled enough tracker to track Alex down, which wasn't easy.

He followed them steadily through the night, until they pulled into a gas station at dawn. Alex pulled into the dirt road a couple of hundred feet ahead of them. He thought about the day Sam had left, over two years ago. It had been the day he had finally decided to reveal his identity to Dean, the day his brother had left. He knew what that was like; he thought they could maybe find solace in each other, two generations of abandoned Winchesters. He climbed out of his truck and moved towards the cabin in the woods. He stopped when he heard gunshots, and saw Dean firing continuously into a tree, standing some way away from the rest. He saw him sink to the ground, and he saw his reaction when Sam left. He retreated after watching him shatter the side of an old wooden building, deciding to leave him with his anger. Behind him, he saw the Impala's headlight flash, and he climbed out of his truck, heading down the dirt road towards the gas station.

--

Dean glanced at Sam, who had been asleep since about ten minutes out of Stanford, thinking back to the conversation he'd had with him the day he left.

'_Dean, I'm leaving. Dad told me to get out, so I am.'_

'_Aww, c'mon Sammy, he doesn't mean it. It's just you guys butting heads again.'_

'_Not this time. This time he meant it. I can tell.' Sam continued packing clothes into his bag, sidestepping Dean to get to the wardrobe._

'_So give him time to cool down. I can talk him outta it, I know I can-' Sam interrupted him, grabbing handfuls of books from the shelf in the corner._

'_Don't bother. If it wasn't now, it was gonna be soon. I had to get out, Dean. This life? I can't take it anymore. It's slowly killing me.'_

_Dean was speechless. Sam chanced a glance at him, and wished he hadn't. He could have handled it if he was angry, or even sad, but Dean's normally vibrant emerald eyes were blank, vacant._

'_That's really how you feel?' Dean said eventually, his voice as hollow as his eyes._

_Sam didn't trust himself to speak or meet Dean's eyes, nodding at his shoes._

'_OK then,' it was said so softly Sam wondered if he'd heard it, or just imagined it and looked up, but his brother was gone, the door to his room swinging shut slowly._

_Outside, Dean pulled out the pistol he carried almost everywhere, even at twenty four and emptied a clip into a solitary tree, tossing the gun away when he was done, dropping it on a tree stump. Then he sank down to his haunches, leaning against the old, disused outhouse. The wood creaked with age, and he stared at the clear sky above him. Everyone left eventually. First his Mom left, then Sam. It was only a matter of time before his Dad left as well. He stood up, retrieving his gun and tucking it into the waistband of his pants. He could see out of the corner of his eye the shadow of someone watching him, but whether it was John, back from a hunt or something else, he didn't care. Something else caught his attention, and he turned to see Sam carrying his stuff out of the house, dumping them into a truck he'd borrowed from Bobby. Dean snapped. He whirled around, snapping his foot out, connected with the side of the shack, his boot going straight through the rotted wood, shattering the plank he hit and the ones around it, leaving a large jagged hole in the side. Who cared? It wasn't as if anyone used it any more. Snorting, he turned back towards the house, intending to fill his pockets with bullets and spend the afternoon shooting the hell out of the ramshackle old shed._

_He was just in time to see Sam drive off, Bobby in the passenger seat to drive the truck back when they reached California. That should have been Dean, driving him in the Impala, seeing him off. Dean turned and trudged off into the woods, wanting to be alone. He climbed a tree, the one he got stuck up with Sam when he was ten and sat there, one leg dangling down and closed his eyes, remembering his life before the hunt, all four years of it._

Dean shook his head, shaking away the memories. That wasn't a day he wanted to relive any more than the day he lost his mother. Looking ahead at the truck driving up the road, stopping a couple hundred feet away, he flashed his headlights once, signaling to Alex that he wanted to talk. He saw a figure get out of his truck, and start heading this way. Glancing again at Sam, he got out of the car quietly, leaving the door ajar, and headed up to meet Alex.

'You told him yet?' Alex asked, scuffing his shoe idly on a stone.

Dean shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to clear his thoughts. They were muggy from lack of sleep. 'I'm gonna wait for him to wake up, and he's in a better mood. And from a distance. He's got a hell of a right hook.'

Alex chuckled. 'Just like his old man,' he said, tapping his crooked nose.

'Yeah, Dad's a good fighter. I'd rather fight with him than against him,' said Dean, smiling. There was silence for a couple of minutes, until Dean spoke again. 'I hope he's OK.'

'Hey,' Alex nudged him with an elbow, grinning. 'John'll be fine. He knows how to handle himself. When have you ever known him to get in over his head?'

'Only every other week,' retorted Dean, but he laughed, and the solemn mood was broken. Alex yawned, stretching his arms above his head, the joints popping.

'Well, I'm beat,' he declared, turning back to his truck. 'Night, kid.'

'Night, Uncle Alex' said Dean softly, heading back to the Impala for sleep, however short it might be. Uncle Alex… the words felt right in his head, it felt like family.

--

The next morning, Sam woke with a crick in his neck and his face pressed against the car window. He was alone in the car, but he could see Dean inside the gas station, chatting up the pretty little blonde serving him. He quickly flipped through the events of last night, Dean breaking in, the fight, Dean meeting Jess, telling him about Dad, leaving, learning about the case and waking up here, in the middle of the desert apparently. His foot kicked something on the floor, and he bent down to pick it up, groaning as his back cracked noisily. It was an old-ish wooden box, full to the brim of cassette tapes. He flicked through them idly, he opened the door and stuck his feet outside, stretching his legs in bliss. Six foot four was definitely too tall to spend the night crammed in a car. Never again, he promised.

Dean appeared round the back of the Impala, waving breakfast bars and juice at him, grinning. 'Hey, you want breakfast?'

Sam looked at him, before going back to the tapes. 'No thanks. So how'd you pay for that stuff? You and dad still running credit card scams?'

'Yeah well…hunting ain't exactly a pro-ball career. Besides, all we do is apply, it's not our fault they send us the cards.'

'Yeah? And what names did you write on the application this time?' Sam asked pointedly.

Dean climbed back in the car, uncapping a bottle of water. 'Uh…Bert Aframian and his son, Hector. Scored two cards out of the deal,' he proclaimed, seemingly proud of that fact.

Sam snorted, before pushing the cassettes away. 'Sounds about right. I swear man; you gotta update your cassette-tape collection.'

Dean looked at him, puzzled. 'Why?'

Sam raised an eyebrow. 'Well for one they're cassette tapes, and two,' he pulled out a handful, reading the labels. 'Black Sabbath? Motorhead? Metallica? It's the greatest hits of mullet rock.'

Dean grabbed the cassette Sam was holding, popping it in the player, music blaring out. 'House rules, Sammy. Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake hole. '

Sam scowled at the use of his old nickname. 'You know, Sammy is a chubby 12 year old. It's Sam, okay?'

'I'm sorry, I can't hear you. The music's too loud!' Dean said, smiling evilly. They pulled out of the gas station, passing a beat up old truck with bags in the back, and a man asleep in the front. Dean blasted the horn quickly, and, at a look from Sam, explained that 'my hand slipped man.'

Unnoticed by Sam, the truck pulled out of its dirt parking space, chugging quietly along behind the brothers, and the two cars drove in peace, apart from Dean's music, until they reached a sign that said 'Jericho 7 miles.'

Sam hung up his cell. He'd been calling the hospital under the guise of an FBI agent, the ID of which he's found in the glove compartment. He didn't know how Dean got it, and he didn't want to. 'All right, so there's no one matching Dad at the hospital or morgue, so that's something, I guess.'

They pulled up by a bridge surrounded by police cars and men in either uniform on a suit. 'Hey, check this out,' said Dean, pulling his box of ID's out again and grabbing two, handing one to Sam. 'Let's go.' He smiled and climbed out of the car before Sam could protest. They headed over to the accident, glancing around them, for signs of preternatural activity, sulphur, or flickering car radios. One of the uniforms was leaning over the bridge, yelling down to the two cops from the diving unit, climbing out of the rover, covered in a thick layer of mud. 'You guys find anything?'

'No, nothing!' One yelled back. Another cop was inside the car, searching for evidence. 'No signs of struggle, no footprints, no fingerprints. Spotless, it's almost too clean.'

A uniform was standing next to the car, talking to the one inside. 'So this kid Troy, he's dating your daughter isn't he?'

'Yeah.'

'How's Amy doing?'

'She's putting up missing posters downtown.'

Dean took this opportunity to approach, using the thing he's learnt from his dad about taking control of the scene quickly and effectively. 'You fella's had another one just like this last month, didn't ya?'

One of the police looked at him, confused. 'Who are you?'

Dean flipped open his ID, revealing an ID and a US Marshall badge. 'Federal Marshalls,' he said, flipping it closed again.

The cop didn't look convinced. 'You two are a little young for Marshals aren't you?'

Dean smiled. 'Thanks, that's awfully kind of you. You did have another one just like this correct?'

He nodded. 'Yeah, about a mile up the road. There have been others before that.'

'So, this victim, you knew him?' he asked, gesturing to the car.

The cop nodded again. 'In a town like this, everybody knows everybody.'

Dean nodded knowingly, and started circling the car, pausing every so often to examine parts, or kick a tyre. He looked up at the cop, who must be feeling pretty uncomfortable by now, this quick fire interrogation style. 'Any connections between the victims besides that they're all men?'

'No, not so far as we can tell,' he said, his eyes darting between the two brothers.

Sam pulled out a small black notebook and a pen in an attempt to look official, despite the jeans and old shirt he was wearing. 'So what's the theory?' He moved to stand next to Dean; if the cop's eyes kept fluttering he might have a stroke or something.

'Honestly?' he started, looking more relieved now he didn't have to address two different people. 'We don't know. Serial murder? Kidnapping ring?'

Dean snorted. 'Well that is exactly the kind of crack police work that I'd expect out of you guys.'

He yelped as Sam stood on his foot. 'Thank you for your time.' He nodded at the other uniforms gathered. 'Gentlemen.' He started walking back to the car, not waiting for Dean. Suddenly his head jerked forward as Dean smacked him on the back of his skull. 'Ow! What was that for?' he complained, glaring.

'Why'd you have to step on my foot?' pouted Dean.

'Why'd you have to talk to the police like that?' Sam asked, rubbing the back of his head.

Dean looked at him like an idiot, which Dean probably though he was. 'Come on. They don't really know what's going on. We're all alone on this. I mean if we're gonna find dad we've gotta get to the bottom of this thing ourselves.'

Sam cleared his throat, signaling the arrival of the sheriff and two important looking men in suits.

'Can I help you boys?' the sheriff asked.

Dean straightened up, trying to look official. 'No sir. We were just leaving.' The men in suits were walking past at this time, and Dean nodded at them, acknowledging them. 'Agent Mulder. Agent Scully.' He chose to ignore the glares from behind the shades, and headed towards the car, Sam on his heels.

--

Alex, having watched the scene unfold before his eyes, concealed down the road, laughed and shook his head. Only Winchesters would have the bare faced cheek to lie to law enforcement like that. No, he thought, only John's boys.

He pulled out onto the road, heading for the motel he and Dean had prearranged, ready to set up base camp there. What he didn't notice was Sam watching him leave, recognizing the same truck from Stanford. He and Dean were being followed.

--

OK, shameless self promotion time!

I think you should all go read my other SPN fic, All We Are. It's one of my favourites to write, and will hopefully be around for a while. Go, enjoy!

Also, go vote on the poll on my profile!


	3. Pilot: Reach Out

I own nothing, only Alex.

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_'Cause I don't know you  
And you don't know me  
It's the same sun rising  
We all just look to the sky_

_Reach Out- Take That  
_

--

Alex pulled into the motel parking lot, his beat up old truck drawing more than a few stares, but he didn't care. He'd had this truck longer than Dean had been alive, and it was his baby. He booked two rooms with the credit card Dean had given him, claiming it was 'business expenses', the same smirk on his face John had when he was younger and doing something that wasn't exactly allowed. Or legal.

The wizened old man on the desk looked at the name on the card and looked at Alex, who smiled winningly. The old man smiled back. 'Family reunion?' he asked, scanning the card and handing it back.

Alex's smile faltered as he retrieved the card. 'Sorry?'

'That other guy, uhh, Bert Aframian, he checked in a couple days ago, booked a room for the whole month.'

Alex was confused, and so he improvised. 'Yeah,' he chuckled. 'Cousin Bert, he musta beaten me here. Can I see that room please?'

It was a small motel, and the man at the desk looked like he really couldn't be bothered traipsing all that way to the room, so he handed over a key, and with a promise to bring it back, Alex took off in the direction of 'Bert Aframian's' room, lugging his bags behind him.

--

Dean's phone buzzed as they headed down the street towards a girl hanging missing posters. He checked it surreptitiously. _FOUND YOUR DAD's ROOM. 614. CHECK IN LATER._ He slipped the cell back in his pocket, alerting Sam's attention to the girl. 'I'll bet you that's her.'

Sam nodded, heading over. 'Yeah.'

The girl was wearing all black, with heavy dark eye make-up, clearly in the 'rebel your parents' stage of adolescence. 'You must be Amy,' stated Dean, flashing a smile.

'Yeah,' she said, watching the brothers warily.

'Troy told us about you, we're his uncles. I'm Dean, this is Sammy.' Dean was completely improvising, making it up as he went along, as he so often did. He could feel Sam bristle beside him at the mention of his nickname again.

Amy frowned, confused. 'He never mentioned you to me.'

Dean laughed gently. 'Well, that's Troy I guess. We're not around much; we're up in Modesto. So, we're looking for him too, and we're kinda asking around.'

Dean was interrupted by a similarly gothic looking girl coming up to Amy, and asking how she was. Amy said she was fine, and Sam butted in suddenly. 'Do you mind if we ask you a couple of questions?'

Amy shook her head, and all four of them walked off in the direction of a small diner. They grabbed a booth and sit down, Sam and Dean on one side, the girls on the other.

Amy looked at her hands, running a napkin through her fingers. She spoke slowly, as if trying not to miss anything out. 'I was on the phone with Troy. He was driving home. He said he would call me right back, and he never did.'

'He didn't say anything strange or out of the ordinary?' Sam asked, leaning forward in his seat slightly.

'No, nothing I can remember.'

Sam pointed at the pentacle necklace she was wearing, half tucked into her shirt. 'I like your necklace.' Dean looked at him, wrinkling his nose in disgust. _Sam can be such a girl_, he thought.

Amy smiled, pulling it out of her shirt, leaving it to dangle on the end of her finger. 'Troy gave it to me. Mostly to scare my parents with all that devil stuff.'

'Actually, it means just the opposite. A pentagram is protection against evil, really powerful. I mean, if you believe in that kind of thing,' Sam babbled, before Dean cut him off.

'Okay, thank you "Unsolved Mysteries". Here's the deal ladies--the way Troy disappeared—something's not right. So if you've heard anything…'

Amy and her friend exchanged a glance, one that didn't go unseen by either brother.

'What is it?' asked Dean, looking at Sam.

Amy's friend started speaking hesitantly. 'Well, it's just…with all these guys going missing, people talk.'

'What do they talk about?' the brothers asked simultaneously.

'It's kind of this local legend. This one girl, she got murdered out on Centennial like…decades ago. Well supposedly she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up—Well, they disappear forever.'

Sam and Dean looked at each other again, and excused themselves, making a beeline for the nearest library.

--

Meanwhile, Alex let himself into the motel, dumping his bags on the floor by the only bed in there. It was made, and apparently housekeeping hadn't been in, so the bed hadn't been slept in yet. He yawned, figuring he'd grab a couple hours sleep while the boys were out detecting. Throwing his tall frame onto the bed, he shut his eyes and before long, he was snoring gently in a dreamless sleep.

--

Dean clicked his mouse impatiently, waiting for the Jericho Herald web page to load. When it finally had, he typed 'Female Murder Hitchhiking' there were no results found, so he switched the 'Hitchhiking' for 'Centennial Highway'. There were still no results, so Sam reached out for the mouse, 'Let me try,' and getting a smack on the back of his hand for his troubles, and Dean snapped at him, saying he could manage.

Sam rolled his eyes and simply pushed Dean's rolling chair out of the way, sliding into his old place. 'Dude,' complained Dean, rolling back over. 'You're such a control freak,' he muttered.

Sam chose to ignore that, instead asking a question. 'So angry spirits are born out of violent death, right?'

'Yeah,' said Dean, still sulking a little.

'Maybe it's not murder,' said Sam, more to himself than Dean. He typed in 'Female Suicide Centennial Highway' and it got a result. He started reading from the article. 'This was 1981. Constance Welch, twenty four years old; jumps off Sylvania Bridge, drowns in the river.'

Dean sat up straighter. 'Does it say why she did it?'

Yeah,' said Sam, reading further on quickly.

'What?'

'An hour before they found her, she calls 911. Her two little kids are in the bathtub, she leaves them alone for a minute, she comes back, they aren't breathing. Both die.'

Dean hummed in thought.

Sam started reading out loud again. '"Our babies were gone and Constance just couldn't bear it," said husband Joseph Welch.'

Dean zeroed in on the picture accompanying the article, an old photo of policemen carrying away a body bag, presumably Constance's corpse. 'That bridge look familiar to you?'

After researching Constance more thoroughly, getting an address for the husband and the house that Constance lived in, they drove to the bridge as night began to fall, turning everything shades of grey. They left the car off the bridge and walked slowly down it, not sure what they would find.

'So this is where Constance took the swan dive,' said Dean, breaking the heavy silence.

'So you think Dad would have been here?' Sam asked, glancing around him.

'Well, he's chasing the same story and we're chasing him,' answered Dean by way of reply, also looking around himself.

'OK,' said Sam. 'So, now what?'

'Now we keep digging till we find him. It might take a while.' Something in Dean's indifferent tone irked Sam, and he lashed out, a little more sharply than he intended, snapping at his brother. 'Dean, I told you, I gotta get back by-'

'Monday,' Dean interrupted. 'Right, the interview.'

'Yeah,' said Sam pointedly, but Dean wasn't finished yet.

'Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this aren't you? You think you're just gonna become some lawyer? Marry your girl?'

Sam shrugged. 'Maybe. Why not?'

Dena turned to face him, shrouded in shadow. 'Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you've done?'

'No,' said Sam forcefully. 'And she's not ever going to know.'

'Well that's healthy,' snarked Dean 'You can' pretend all you want Sammy. But sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are.' He started walking down the bridge, not glancing behind to see if his brother was following.

'Who is that?' Sam asked, his tone dangerous.

'One of us.' Dean threw the sentence over his shoulder.

'No, I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life.'

'Well, you've got a responsibility.'

Sam stopped, as did Dean, who turned round. 'To Dad and his crusade? If it weren't for picture, I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like. What difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone, and she isn't coming back.'

Dean grabbed him by the shirt, forcing him into a rail on the bridge, putting his face close to Sam's. 'Don't talk about her like that,' he snarled, before letting him go and turning away, seeing a woman in white on the side of the bridge. 'Sam,' he said, the fight forgotten. Sam turned to see her and she looked at them both before letting go of the railing and falling off the bridge. They ran over to where she dropped but there was no sign of movement in the water, or sound of her hitting the river.

'Where'd she go?' asked Dean, eyes scanning the river below.

'I dunno,' replied Sam, doing the same. Suddenly, he heard the Impala start up and Dean whirled around, blinding himself with the headlights.

'What the-' he started, as the engine roared.

'Who's driving your car?' asked Sam, not taking his eyes off the Impala.

Dean reached into his pocket, bringing out the keys, showing that nobody could be driving the car. The engine roared again, and the car started moving towards them. They started running in the opposite direction. 'Come on Dean. Let's go! Go!'

They kept running, but the car was catching up, and so they veered off towards the railing, throwing themselves over it. Sam hooked a hand around the rails, but Dean catapulted right over, landing in the river with a splash.

Sam struggled to pull himself up. 'Dean!' he shouted, looking down at the water. 'Dean!'

Below him, a shape crawled out of the river, covered from head to toe in mud. 'What?' he called.

'Hey, you alright?' Sam asked, pulling himself onto the bridge.

Dean collapsed on the bank, giving Sam a thumbs up. 'I'm super.'

Sam laughed, and went down to meet him.

Dean made his way back up, and they sat on the hood of the Impala. Dean wiped the mud out of his eyes and hair, but what he really needed was a shower in Sam's opinion. He checked out the engine, and the interior of the car, making sure the spirit hadn't broken anything.

'Car alright?' asked Sam.

Dean slammed the hood and leant on it again, head in hands. 'Yeah, whatever she did to it, seems alright now. That Constance chick- What a bitch!' he yelled. Sam didn't know what he was trying to achieve by shouting, maybe he was just venting. He decided to be the voice of reason.

'Well, she doesn't want us digging around, that's for sure. So, where's the trail go from here, genius?' he wrinkled his nose slightly, shifting away from Dean. 'You smell like a toilet.'

Sam drove them to the motel, Dean sitting in the passenger seat, because, he explained, 'It's easier to clean than the driver's seat.' Sam didn't quite see the logic in this, but it was easier to just drive, and not argue. He pulled into the parking lot of the motel Dean had directed him to, and they went to book a room, until Dean just picked up a key and led Sam to room 614.

'Wait, when did you book this room?' he asked, confused.

'I didn't.' he replied, slipping the key in the lock. 'OK, now Sammy, don't get all pissy about this…' He swung the door open and they entered the room, Sam spotting someone asleep on the bed.

'Dean, what the hell is going on?' Dean walked over and slapped the man on the cheek lightly, waking him up.

'Sam, this is Alex. He's Dad's brother.' And with that statement, Dean escaped into the bathroom with his backpack of spare clothes.

--

Hope you liked it, I'm think three chapters per episode now.


	4. Pilot: Highway To Hell

Now, as far as I understand it, Dean Winchester costs quite a bit more than £1.26. –checks pocket- Darn it. In other words, I don't own him and can't afford it.

NOTE: I'm changing the time line of this ep a little, cos it doesn't make sense otherwise.

By the by, spirit's talking is set out like ::this::. Two colons on each side. I dunno why, it just is.

--

Alex was jolted out of his sleep by something hitting him in the face. He wrinkled his nose and rolled over, but it was no good. He was awake. He cracked one eyelid open and tuned into the conversation. '-Dad's brother,' was all he heard, before Dean cut across his line of vision, shutting the bathroom door behind him. Alex must still be woozy from sleep, he could have sworn Dean was brown…

Someone clearing their throat brought his attention round to the doorway. He turned his head, squinting at the light that flooded in from a light outside. 'Hey, kid, you wanna shut the door?' he asked, his voice hoarse from sleep.

'No, not really,' the kid said, folding his arms. He was tall, his head grazing the top of the doorframe.

'OK, let's try it this way. Shut the door before I come over there and shut it. With you still standing in the frame.' He sat up, yawning.

The kid didn't move, so he stood up and made his way over to him. His mouth was set in a straight line, his expression stony, until Alex stood in front of him. He might be tall, but Alex was six foot six, and took shit from no body. Credit where it's due, he still didn't move, but his expression was a little less sullen, and a little more worried. Alex stuck his hand out, grabbed him by his shirt and yanked him inside, shutting the door behind him. 'Sam Winchester,' he growled, looking down at his nephew.

'What's it to ya?'

Alex slapped him upside the head, turning away. 'Don't be insolent.' Suddenly, he lurched forward. Sam had lashed out, hitting him between the shoulder blades. Alex spun round and snapped a roundhouse kick at him, catching him in the stomach. He stayed on his feet, but only just, throwing a punch, catching Alex on the side of the head. They traded hits for a couple of minutes, until Dean walked out of the bathroom in clean jeans, pulling a shirt on over his bare chest.

'Hey!' he shouted, discarding the uncooperative shirt on the bed and pulling them apart, which was easier said than done, seeing as they both towered over him by at least four inches and outweighed him by more than forty pounds each. He caught an elbow in the face, before he got Sam by the back of the shirt and hauled him away, jumping in between the two before someone got seriously hurt. As it was, Sam's nose was bleeding, and Alex was going to have a hell of a shiner tomorrow morning. He retrieved his shirt, pulling it on properly, before fixing the two men with a glare. 'What the hell is wrong with you guys? We're family. Does that mean nothing to you schmucks?'

Alex smirked at the word 'schmucks', but otherwise kept silent. Sam just looked at his shoes.

'Am I gonna be able to leave you guys alone, or are you gonna go Muhammed Ali on each other again?' They both shook their heads. 'Good. Now, I call the bed!' And with that, Dean threw himself on the bed, stretching his tired limbs out over the whole bed, leaving no room for anyone else. Sam glanced over at Alex, who made his way out of the room. 'You have the couch. I'm sleeping in my truck, where it doesn't smell like something died.'

--

The next morning, Alex slipped in to use the shower while they were both asleep. He had to crouch slightly, motel rooms weren't built for people of his size, but the water was hot and he washed away all the knots in his back. When he emerged, clad in ripped jeans and a wife beater, slipping a leather jacket on, Dean nodded a greeting, busy cleaning his gun. Sam was sitting cross-legged on the bed, apparently listening to his voicemail. He glowered at Alex when he entered, but it was much less aggressive than last night's confrontation. Alex had woken up today, the right side of his face tinged violet. Dean finished with his gun, slotting it all back together and slipping it into his bag. 'Hey man, I'm starving. I'm gonna grab a little something to eat at that diner down the street. You guys want anything?'

Alex shook his head, rubbing his hair with a towel. He needed to cut it again, and by cut it, he meant take a razor to it and shave most of it off.

'No,' said Sam, only half listening.

'Aframian's buying,' tempted Dean, and Alex chuckled, but refused again, digging through his bag for a Reese's Fastbreak, waggling it at Dean, who grinned and left. Alex dug in; Dean wasn't the only hungry one.

--

Dean left the motel room in a good mood. He only hoped Alex and Sam could be civil long enough for him to eat breakfast. It was a bad sign when Dean had to break up a fight, usually he was starting it, but something about Alex had irked Sam, and Dean was willing to bet it was the similarities between John and Alex. Unlike him and Sam, who played off each other, he'd spent enough time around the older Winchester brothers to draw parallels between the two. They had the same, take control swiftly and neatly attitude towards cops and suchlike, and they both treated Dean like a soldier, although in Alex's case, it wasn't from being a Marine. Dean was curious about where he learnt it all, all the stuff Dean had learned from his dad, where had Alex learnt it? He reached his car, still musing it over, when he saw two cops talking to the check in guy. The man pointed towards him, so he turned and dialed Sam's number quickly, walking away from them.

'_What?'_

'Dude, five-oh. Take off.' Dean muttered, trying to walk faster without giving the impression of speeding up.

'_What about you?'_ Sam asked.

'Uh, they kinda spotted me. Go find Dad.' Dean hung up, turning to face the cops. 'Problem, officers?' he asked, smiling winningly.

'Where's your partners?' One of them asked.

Dean feigned ignorance. 'Partners? What partners?'

One cop signaled to the other, and he moved towards the motel room. Dean cringed inconspicuously, had he bought Sam and Alex enough time?

--

Sam hung up the phone, moving quickly to the window and peering out. He saw Dean being shoved onto the hood of the police car, and one of the cops making his way up to the room. 'We gotta get out of here,' he spun round to Alex, who had already started packing things up. He wrenched open the window leading to the back of the motel, and slid through, as Alex started passing the bags. Just as the officer kicked the door down, Alex slipped through, landing on his ass in a dirty alley. He scrambled up, and he and Sam shouldered the bags, running down the alley and round the corner before the cop was even in the room. 'Where now?' Sam asked, as they turned a corner, slowing to a jog.

'The husband, Joseph Welch. John might have been there already, it might let us know where he's gone.'

--

Dean was sitting in an uncomfortable plastic chair in the local police station. The cop that had arrested him sat opposite him, a cardboard box full of stuff from the motel room. He took this to mean that Sam and Alex got out OK, and he relaxed into his default mode when dealing with people in uniforms. Sarcasm.

'So, you want to give us your real name?' the cop said, leaning forward.

'I told you, it's Nugent. Ted Nugent.'

'I'm not sure you realise just how much trouble you're in here.'

Dean spotted an opening for a joke, and took it. 'We talking like misdemeanor kind of trouble? Or uh…"squeal like a pig" kind of trouble?'

'You got the faces of ten missing persons taped to your wall, along with a whole lot of satanic mumbo jumbo. Boy, you are officially a suspect.

Dean smirked. 'That makes sense. 'Cause when the first one went missing in eighty two, I was three.'

'I know you got partners, one of 'em's an older guy. Maybe he started the whole thing. So tell me,' he paused. 'Dean.' Dean froze. The cop reached into the box and pulled out an old, leather bound journal. 'Is this his? I thought that might be your name. See I leafed through this, what little I could make out, I mean, it's nine kinds of crazy. But I found this too.' The officer started flicking through the pages, stopping on a page that said 'Dean 35-111'. 'Now, you're staying right here until you tell me exactly what the hell that means.

Dean just stared at the journal. _Dad…_

_--_

Sam knocked on the door, double checking the number from a scrawled address on the sheet of paper from Dean's journal. An old man opened the door, looking at them suspiciously.

'Hi, uh, are you Joseph Welch?' asked Alex, sticking a hand out for him to shake.

'Yeah,' Joseph answered warily, looking from one to the other.

Alex, Sam and Joseph strolled across the yard. Joseph looked at a photograph that Sam had found in the motel room. It was the last family photo before the fire. He had just asked him if the man in the photo had visited him before.

'Yeah, he was older, but that's him. He came by three or four days ago. Said he was a reporter.' Sam was questioning him, and Alex was taking notes. Alex made the elderly man nervous, so he was staying in the background.

'That's right. We're working on a story together.'

'Well, I don't know what the hell kind of story going you're working on. The questions he asked me.'

'About your late wife Constance?' Alex made another note, pretending to listen.

'He asked me where she was buried.'

Alex started listening, abandoning his doodled devil's trap. 'And where is that again?' he interrupted Sam's polite questioning.

Joseph's gaze flicked to Alex, and he tried his best not to look intimidating. 'What, I got to go through this twice?' he asked, looking up at Alex's friendly face.

Sam took control of the interview again, throwing a look at Alex that clearly said 'Shut the hell up and let me do the talking'. Alex sniggered and resumed his doodling. 'It's fact checking. If you don't mind?' Sam said in a soothing tone, and Joseph visibly relaxed.

'In a plot behind my old place over on Breckenridge,' he said, ignoring Alex completely, only addressing Sam. _Suits me,_ thought Alex, adding more detail to his devils trap.

'Why did you move?'

'I'm not gonna live in the house where my children died.'

'Mr Welch, did you ever marry again?'

'No way. Constance, she was the love of my life. Prettiest woman I ever known.'

'So, you had a happy marriage?' Alex looked up from his doodle. Sam was going somewhere with this?

Joseph hesitated, showing Alex the flash of something in his eyes. Guilt? 'Definitely.'

'Well, that should do it. Thanks for your time.' They started walking back to the car, when Alex stopped, turning back to face Joseph. The old man had already started walking back into the house, but at the sound of his name, he turned.

'Mr Welch, you ever hear of a woman in white?'

'A what?'

Alex saw Sam roll his eyes, but he continued on. 'A woman in white, or sometimes a weeping woman. It's a ghost story. Well it's more of a phenomenon really. Um, they're spirits. They've been sighted for hundreds of years. Dozens of places; in Hawaii and Mexico. Lately in Arizona and Indiana. All these are different women, you understand. But all share the same story.'

Joseph scowled. 'Boy, I don't care much for nonsense.'

_Boy? About thirty years too late for that,_ thought Alex. 'You see, when they were alive, their husbands were unfaithful to them. And these women, basically suffering from temporary insanity, murdered their children. Then once they realized what they had done, they took their own lives. So now their spirits are cursed. Walking back roads, waterways, and if they find an unfaithful man, they kill him, and that man is never seen again.'

'You think, you think that has something to do with Constance? You smartass,' snarled Joseph.

'You tell me,' said Alex calmly, before getting in the car.

'I mean maybe, maybe I made some mistakes, but no matter what I did, Constance never woulda killed her own children. Now you get the hell out of here, and you don't come back.'

Sam slipped into the driver's seat, and drove off towards Breckenridge, dropping Alex off at the station to break Dean out. 'Hey, Alex,' he said, when he started walking off.

'What?'

'You gonna do that to every witness we speak to?'

'I guess so,' smirked Alex.

'Fan-tastic,' sighed Sam, driving off towards Breckenridge, armed with a shovel and his salt and burn kit.

--

Dean shifted in his chair, trying to stop his ass from falling asleep. 'I don't know how many times I gotta tell ya. It's my high school locker combo.'

The cop sighed. 'Are we gonna do this all night long?'

Dean bit back his retort as another uniform poked his head in the room. 'We just got a nine one one, shots fired over at Whiteford Road.'

The cop sitting on the table looked at Dean. 'You gotta use the bathroom?'

'No,' said Dean, too confused for a jibe.

'Good.' He handcuffed one of Dean's hands to the table, and he cursed internally. They left, and Dean pulled at the cuff experimentally. It didn't give, and he looked around him, looking for an escape method. He spied a paperclip, and smiled. Thirty seconds later he strolled through the empty precinct, armed with his Dad's journal. He climbed out of the window and down the fire escape. A whistle alerted him to Alex's presence, leaning against the wall, almost invisible in the shadow, a phone in his hand. 'A fake 911 call? I dunno, that's pretty illegal.'

Alex laughed and punched his arm affectionately, holding the cell out to Dean, who dialed Sam. 'We gotta talk.'

'_Tell me about it. So the husband _was _unfaithful, we_ are_ dealing with a woman in white. She's buried behind her old house. So that should have been Dad's next stop-'_

'Sammy, would you shut up for a second.- interrupted Dean, but he kept talking, babbling like he used to when he was little.

'_I just can't figure out why he hasn't destroyed the corpse yet.'_

'Well that's what I'm trying to tell you. He's gone. Dad left Jericho.' He felt Alex straighten up next to him, listening to the conversation properly.

'_What? How do you know?'_

'I've got his journal.'

'_He doesn't go anywhere without that.'_

'Yeah, well, he did this time.'

'_What's it say?'_

'Same old ex-Marine crap when he wants to let us know where he's going.' Dean complained bitterly. He loved his Dad, but he was annoying as hell sometimes.

'_Coordinates. Where to?'_

'I'm not sure yet.'

'_I don't understand, I mean, what could be so important that Dad would just skip out in the middle of a job? Dean, what the hell is going on? Whoa!'_

Dean heard Sam exclaim and the screech of brakes. 'Sam? Sam!'

Alex looked concerned as Dean continued to shout into the phone. What the hell just happened?

--

Sam froze, staring at Constance Welch in the rearview mirror of the Impala. ::Take me home:: she said, sounding so pitiful, Sam actually did, until he remembered what she did to so many men.

'No,' he said, hoping his voice was sounding stronger than it did to him. Then the doors locked automatically, and Sam scrabbled at them , trying to get out of the car. The car was put in gear and the gas pedal pressed down, without Sam touching it. The car pulled up to the Breckenridge place and stopped. The car shut off, although the doors were still locked. Sam made eye contact with the spirit. 'Don't do this,' he pleaded.

::I can never go home:: sang Constance, staring straight through Sam.

'You're scared to go home,' said Sam, more a statement than a question. He turned to face her, but she was gone. He scans around for her, and she reappeared in the passenger seat. She jumped on him, pushing him down onto the seat, climbing on top of him.

::Hold me. I'm so cold:: She pressed herself into Sam.

'You can't kill me! I'm not unfaithful. I've never been!'

::You will be:: she hissed and met his lips with her own, trying to deepen the kiss as Sam scrambled for the car keys, still in the ignition. Apparently this was the wrong thing to do, because she changed into something that was more monster than woman and disappeared. Suddenly, Sam was met with a burning pain in his chest as Constance reappeared, her hand sunk into his chest. He ripped his jacket open, seeing five claw holes in his shirt, blood leaking gently from each. He flinch as the window to the Impala shattered, and Dean stood on the other side, his shotgun held straight out in front of him. While she was distracted, Sam turned the engine over and put the car in gear.

'I'm taking you home!' he cried, and floored the gas pedal, punching a hole in the side of the house with the car.

'Sam!' he heard Dean shouting, and banging as he ran through the wreckage of the house's wall. 'Sam, you OK?'

'I think,' he groaned, trying to stretch his legs out.

'Can you move?' Dean asked, concern written all over his face.

'Yeah. Help me.' Dean reached over to help Sam out of the car, neither of them seeing Constance, standing behind them holding a picture of herself and her children. With a final pull, Sam slithers out of the car, standing on aching legs, still to ignore the dull ache in his chest. He'd get Dean to stitch those up later. Constance threw the picture on the ground, alerting the brothers to her presence. She raised a hand and the dresser in front of them rushed forward, pinning them to the Impala. They struggled, but it was no use. She was stronger than them. The lights started flickered, and the spirit looked around, making it clear she wasn't doing this. They all looked towards the stairs to see water trickling down them. Constance looked up to the top of the stairs, out of Sam and Dean's line of sight. A look or horror crossed her face, and Sam and Dean exchanged glances. What was she seeing?

::You've come home to us Mommy::

Suddenly, two small figures appeared behind Constance. Constance's children, Sam realised. They grabbed her, one of each arm and she shrieked, a horrible, high pitched keen. The three spectres melted down into a puddle, and the brothers were able to move. Sam heaved the dresser off them both and they stood looking at the puddle by their feet.

'So this is where she drowned her kids,' Dean said simply.

'That's why she could never go home. She was too scared to face them,' clarified Sam.

'You found her weak spot. Nice work Sammy.' Dean clapped his hand on his younger brother's shoulder.

Sam laughed. 'I wish I could say the same for you. What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face you freak?

Dean faked hurt. 'Hey, saved your ass. I'll tell you another thing.' He moved towards his car, examining a ding in the body work. 'If you screwed up my car, I'll kill you.'

They met up with Alex just outside of town. He'd charmed his way into the police station to collect the 'evidence' against the Winchesters, and he had a pile of cardboard boxes in the bed of his truck when they met up.

'So, where next?' Alex asked, yawning.

'Uhh…' said Dean, pulling his Dad's journal out of his pocket. He flipped it open to the page with the coordinates on. '35-111,' he announced.

Sam rolled his eyes and pulled a map out of the back seat of the Impala. He found the coordinates easy enough, but the location shed no light on Dad's reason for going there. 'OK, here's where Dad went. It's called Blackwater Ridge, Colorado.'

'Charming,' grinned Alex. 'How far?'

Sam pulled a face, calculating in his head. 'About 600 miles?' he suggested.

'If we shag ass we can make it by morning,' said Dean happily, reaching for the door to the Impala. Alex turned to get into his truck.

'Dean, um…' said Sam, looking lost and guilty.

'You're not going.'

'The interviews in ten hours, I gotta be there,' Sam knew he sounded pleading.

Dean nodded slowly, looking round at Alex, who was wisely staying out of the conversation. 'Yeah, whatever. I'll take you home.'

They drove back to Stanford in stony silence, the only sound the muted music blaring from Alex's truck behind them, Eye of the Tiger. Dean knew there was some sarcastic message hidden in there, but he was exhausted, physically and emotionally, to work it out.

They arrived at Stanford late at night. Sam grabbed his bag and said, somewhat guiltily 'You'll call me if you find him?'

Dean nodded, making Sam feel worse, even though he knew he shouldn't.

'Maybe I'll meet up with you later, huh?' he tried.

'Yeah, all right,' said Dean, less sullen than before. Sam turned to walk towards the apartment, waving a farewell to Alex, who was sat on the hood of his truck. 'Sam.' He turned. 'You know, we made a hell of a team back there.'

'Yeah,' he said sadly, knowing that in all likelihood, he would never see Dean or Alex again.

'See ya kid,' said Alex, hopping off the hood of his truck, reaching in through the passenger side window. He brought out two bottles of beer, and handed one to dean, climbing out of the Impala. They sat on the hood of the car and drank them slowly, looking at Stanford in the dark. Alex gazed up at what he thought was Sam's window, frowning when he saw something on the ceiling. It couldn't be…

--

Sam walked in through the door of his apartment, his tiredness hitting him like a wave. He dumped his bag by the table, spying a plate of chocolate chip cookies with a note in Jess' neat writing. 'Missed you! Love you!' It said, and he smiled, helping himself to a cookie. He nibbled on it as he walked through the apartment to the bedroom, flopping down on the bed. The shower was running, so he decided to wait and surprise Jess when she came out of the bathroom. He put a hand behind his head and closed his eyes. Something tickled his head, and he screwed his eyes shut, trying to resist the itch. It tickles again, so he opens his eyes. Maybe there's a leak in the water pipe. What he wasn't expecting was his beautiful girlfriend Jessica, pinned to the ceiling, her blood dripping down onto him 'No!' he cried. Jess suddenly burst into flames, engulfing the room, but all he could do was stare. There was a crash and the bedroom door burst open, courtesy of Dean. He and Alex rushed into the room.

'Sam!' he shouted, trying to get to his brother.

All Sam could do was stare and yell Jess' name. Dean tried to get him off the bed, but he was too heavy, and he couldn't force him. Alex swooped in just in time, picking the younger brother up in huge arms and tearing out of the apartment, just before the bed erupted into orange and ruby flames, turning Jess to ash.

Outside, Alex lowered Sam to the sidewalk slowly. Dean called 911 on his cell, and the next few hours were madness, fireman and cops and paramedics everywhere. Alex was treated for burns on his forearms, but otherwise they were all fine. Dean talked to the fireman about the origin of the fire, before turning away to find Sam. He found him loading a rifle by the trunk of the Impala, Alex watching him silently from a distance. He threw the rifle into the car, looking at Dean. 'We got work to do.' He slammed the trunk shut and climbing into the Impala, curling round to face the window. Dean got in the driver's seat and started the engine, Alex following him with the truck, the two vehicles disappearing into the night.

--

Alex followed the Impala closely, Highway To Hell playing on the stereo quietly. It had been a hell of a day for them all. He wasn't sure what he thought about the youngest Winchester, he reminded him all too clearly of John.

Turning his attention back to the road, he thought about their next destination. Blackwater Ridge. Wendigo country, if he wasn't mistaken. He hoped the boys knew what they were up against. Could they handle a full blown attack from the most vicious predator on Earth, supernatural or not?

He turned the music up as they roared along the road towards Colorado.

_I'm on the highway to hell  
No stop signs, speed limit  
Nobody's gonna slow me down  
Like a wheel, gonna spin it  
Nobody's gonna mess me round  
Hey Satan, payed my dues  
Playing in a rocking band  
Hey Momma, look at me_

_--_

Well, that was longer than I anticipated. The next chapter, Wendigo should be a lot shorter (hopefully) -crosses fingers-

Hope you enjoyed, and please review!

Also, a quick note. I've been working on some fanmixes for a while now, the first one, 'Family, Or Something Like It' is up on livejournal, and I have three or four more half done. There's a link on my profile, or at least, there will be in the next couple of days.


	5. Everything Fades

Yeah, I know it's been like FOREVER on this, but it kinda slipped my mind. Oops?

This is gonna be a really short chapter, not even 1000 words, just Alex reflecting on John and his sons. And then some. I just realised something. I write a really aggressive Sam, and a really emotionally fucked up Dean. :D?

I own nothing! Only Alex!

--

_Everything fades away, come turning of the tide  
For your love I'm sorry  
For your pain, don't worry  
Everything fades away  
Everything fades away_

_Everything Fades- Poets Of The Fall_

_--_

Alex Winchester slumped in a chair in the gloomy motel room, watching his nephews snooze. It was still a novelty for him, he had gone too long without family, and here were two young men who he had watched grow up, but never been in their lives.

He had watched Dean grow into himself and his father, and he had watched Sam fight like hell against it.

A thought slipped into his mind, highlighting how different the two boys were. Different in their own ways, but both John's sons through and through.

--

_They were practicing crossbow shooting in the woods by the house. Dean was shooting arrow after arrow into the tree, aiming carefully, but always slightly off-centre. Sam was standing behind him, the tip of his crossbow dragging against the earth. John was standing next to them, shouting orders at Dean, who promptly ignored them, doing it his own way, and getting pretty damn good results doing it._

_John signaled to Sam, who sullenly ignored him. His hair was reaching the nape of his neck, a result of his teenage rebellion. He had inherited John's colouring, dark hair and eyes. Dean looked more like his mother, with his green eyes and sandy hair. John and Sam argued back and forth, before Sam finally stepped up to the mark, raised the crossbow one-handed, shot haphazardly and hit dead center. He dropped the crossbow and stalked off into the shadows, clearly finished with this charade. Alex turned and vanished into the shadows._

_--_

Dean had molded himself in John's image, becoming the perfect soldier. Deadly, merciless, and above all, loyal. Sam had taken the path of reluctant younger son, albeit effortlessly a better marksman than Dean would ever be. His size probably helped, his six foot four, two hundred pounds plus frame giving off a clear 'stay out of my way' vibe. Even when he was younger, he had been tall, towering over Dean even by the age of eleven. Alex shifted in his chair as the feeling returned to his knees; bringing with it a surge of pins and needles. He winced and stood up, frowning as his back screamed protest.

'You're gettin' old,' came a voice from the bed, and he looked in surprise. Sitting up slightly, the amulet he always wore stark against the black shirt he was wearing, Dean's eyes were clear and focused, his voice still sleepy. Alex swiped at him halfheartedly, rubbing the feeling back into his legs.

'Hey, in this job, no one gets old, and you consider yourself damn lucky if you do.'

Dean shrugged, climbing out of the bed. 'I'm starving.'

'You're always starving,' retorted Alex, sitting back down, but rummaging in his bag and throwing a packet of peanut M and M's at him. Dean ripped the packet open and dived in, practically inhaling them. 'Chew, brat,' Alex said, shifting into a more comfortable position.

Dean stuck his tongue out, mottled with the colouring from the M and M's. Alex rolled his eyes and gave up on comfort, climbing out of the chair and heading outside, lighting a cigarette from the pack in his jacket pocket. He breathed smoke into the cold air outside.

'That stuff'll kill ya,' Dean added, joining him outside, pulling his leather jacket on. Alex shrugged, flicking ash off the end. 'If the ghosts and werewolves and crap don't get me first, I'll die a happy man.' Dean seemed to consider this, finishing his M and M's and crumpling the packet into a ball.

'If I live as long as you, I'm getting out of this life. While I still can.' Seemingly unconsciously, he looked towards the motel room, where Sam still slept, oblivious.

'You know, you couldn't protect him forever,' Alex said softly. 'One way or another, either you or John was gonna have to drag him back.'

'I know,' replied Dean. 'I just, I really wanted him to have a normal life. And now, I dragged him back, dragged him away from Jessica, and it killed her. It's eating away at me. I see the look in his eyes when he's thinking about her. I know he thinks if he'd been there he could have saved her, but he wasn't, and he didn't, and it's all because of me.'

Alex was silent, taking another drag of his cigarette, blowing a smoke ring or two. He finished it, and flicked the butt away. 'Like hell it was,' he said into the night, before turning to face Dean. Emerald eyes bored into jade ones as they stared each other down. 'Yellow eyes killed Jessica, not you or Sam. I'm gonna say the same thing to him in the morning, so shut up and listen. Stop beating yourself up about it. There was nothing you could do. Hell, I'm the poster boy for guilt. You want guilt, try thirty years of it.'

'Wait, _what _killed Jess?' Dean asked, his brow furrowing.

'Yellow eyes, I call him. He's a demon, a powerful one. His real name's Azazel. He killed Jess, and I think he killed your mom.'

--

Yeah, like I said, I know it's really short, I just needed something to split the chapters up.

Next up, one of Courtney's faves: Wendigo! Hurray?


	6. Never Gonna Be Alone

A/N: the start of this chapter only because Sam in pyjamas is an unbelievably cute image.

Still own nothing, just Alex, who, if you're interested, in my mind (which, bear in mind is full of string, fluff and that one bus ticket you always find down the back of the sofa, regardless of the last time you actually took a bus) looks like Hugh Jackman.

Thanks to my reviewers **Lover-Fighter-Writer**, **night-star-93** and **Touch of the Wind!**

--

_You're never gonna be alone  
From this moment on  
If you ever feel like letting go  
I won't let you fall  
You're never gonna be alone  
I'll hold you 'till the hurt is gone_

_Never Gonna Be Alone- Nickelback_

Dean froze, mouth agape. 'Azazel?' he said, not liking the sound of the word in his mouth. It sounded wrong, dirty somehow.

Alex nodded, flicking ash from the end of his fresh cigarette. 'From Jewish or Islamic mythology, means rugged power, one of the chief demons in the Cabala. Leviticus sixteen eight to ten; 'and Aaron shall cast lots upon the two goats, one lot for the Lord and the other lot for Azazel.' By all accounts, a bad ass, even among demons.'

Dean looked at him curiously. 'You know your demon lore. Does that mean I'm gonna have two smartasses following me around all the time now? Sammy was bad enough, but-'

'Sammy was bad enough for what?' A sleepy voice came from the door to the room and they both turned to face Sam, clad only in a pair of cotton drawstring pants.

'Nothin', Dean said gruffly. 'Go back to bed.'

Sam's face hardened, and Dean swore he actually pouted a little bit, as he folded his arms. 'You're not the boss of me.'

'Quit with the bitchface, kid,' Alex added, before finishing his smoke and heading back inside. 'The wind'll change and it'll stay that way.' He patted him on the shoulder as he pulled the door ajar so the brothers could talk.

'You know, you don't have to treat me like a little kid anymore. I'm twenty two, I can look after myself.'

Dean snorted. 'Apparently not, since you were, you know, basically on fire back at Stanford. If me and Alex hadn't pulled your ass outta there when we did…' He trailed off, not wanting to think about it. What his brother said next completely winding him, leaving a dull ache in his chest reminiscent of when Sam left for Stanford, two years ago.

'Maybe I didn't want you to get me out of there,' he said coldly.

Dean struggled to answer, fighting back the emotions roiling inside of him. 'You don't mean that,' he said, by no means evenly, but it was out.

'You think?' Sam shot back, looking at him with dead eyes. His hazel eyes, once so full of life and laughter, were dulled and emotionless. 'When Jess died,' he stopped, swallowing, and Dean realised his eyes weren't emotionless. They were so filled with grief it made Dean's heart break a little bit, that his brother was hurting so much. 'When Jess died,' he started again, tears sparkling in his eyes. 'she was pregnant.'

Dean opened his mouth, and shut it again. What do you say to something like that? He settled for drawing his brother into a hug, holding the back of his head into his shoulder, like he used to when they were kids. It was slightly more awkward and ungainly, ever since Sam sprouted up, overtaking Dean somewhere around his fourteenth birthday. His brother shook, great racking silent sobs that went straight through Dean, shaking him too. 'Oh, Sammy,' he sighed, hugging him tighter, wishing he could make the pain go away, make the hurting disappear.

'I lost them,' he cried into Dean's shirt, soaking the thin cotton with salty tears. 'I couldn't protect them. I told her I would look after them both, I promised!'

'It's alright, Sammy, it's OK,' Dean soothed, reverting to big brother mode, stroking the back of Sam's head.

'Why? Why did it take them? I was _happy!_ I could have been normal, is that so much to ask?' He lifted his head up from Dean's shoulder, tears streaming down his face, sticking his eyelashes together, making him look years younger than his almost twenty three years.

Dean knew he had to give his brother some honest truths. 'In this life, we don't get normal, we don't get happy. Our chance of a normal life, white picket fence, two point four children, died in your nursery twenty two years ago.'

He sniffled, wiping his eyes, looking more and more like a lost child. 'I know. I guess, for those two years, and when I found out about Jess, I thought maybe I could kid myself this could actually work. Maybe I didn't have to look back. Maybe I didn't have to end up like-' He stopped himself, looking away.

'What?' prompted Dean, softly. 'End up like who? Me?'

He shook his head roughly.

'Dad, then?' he asked, knowing the answer.

Sam didn't answer at first, still looking at his bare feet. Then he nodded slowly.

'Well hell, you think I want to turn out like Dad?' Dean asked, nudging him with his elbow.

Sam shrugged, then smiled, presumably because the alternative was crying. 'Well, you will insist on playing his music, sorry, noise cassettes.'

Dean snorted. 'You know, sooner or later I'm gonna have to educate you on the finer points of classic rock. You can't go around listening to, what's it called, Toldplay?' he teased.

'Coldplay,' Sam corrected automatically. 'And there's nothing wrong with them. At least I don't listen to a tape called 'Mullet rock '63''

Dean chuckled. 'That was a present from Bobby. Besides, we've talked about this. Driver picks the music, shotgun-'

'Shuts his cakehole, I know,' Sam chuckled, finishing the phrase Dean was so fond of using.

'Exactly,' winked Dean, before heading back inside. 'You comin'?'

'Yeah, in a sec,' he said, looking out into the night. 'Hey, Dean?'

Dean turned back to face him.

'Tomorrow, can I drive the Impala?'

He pretended to think about it for a moment. 'Hmm… nope!' He snickered. 'Nice try though. Night, Sammy.'

He turned and walked back into the motel, smiling as he saw Alex, fast asleep, his huge frame folded into an armchair. He slid his leather jacket off, leaving it where it dropped, and climbed back into bed, starting at the ceiling, arms folded behind his head.

He missed the old Sammy, but maybe, with Alex around, it would give him the chance to grow into a brand new Sam. Maybe he would even become a brand new Dean. Who knew? All he did know was that having Alex around was almost like old times. Him, Sam and Dad, saving people, hunting things.

The family business.

And he wouldn't have it any other way.

--

Quick pimping, before I go.

Night-star-93-

Wanted Dead Or Alive- Awesome fic, awesome OC's, just a general all round good story.

Fighting For Salvation, Fighting For Redemption- This fic reduced me to tears numerous times, and it's only the first chapter! That is how good it is! I don't cry for just anything!

Lover-Fighter-Writer-

Alone, Patient and Supernatural- I cannot describe this with any other word than EPIC! It's made me laugh, it's made me cry, it's made me want to murder her! (only joking. Or am I?...)

ElzBelz01-

Ambriel- Wow. Just wow. That's really all I can say. I can't get enough of this fic, and if she doesn't update soon, I may be forced to bludgeon her with something heavy (but not too heavy. She has to be able to type)

Bee Winchester David-

There'll Be Peace When You Are Done- I don't think I've EVER seen a fic anything like this one. It's totally unique in it's concept, and I demand another chapter NOW.

Anyway, those are my rec.'s. Go! READ!


	7. Wendigo: Work For The Working Man

I own nothing. Except Alex. He's all mine.

SPOILERS FOR WENDIGO

--

_Who's gonna work for the working man  
Hurt for the working man  
Get your hands in the dirt  
Who's gonna work off the curse  
Brother, I'll be damned  
If I don't raise a hand  
Whose gonna work work work work  
For the working man_

_Work For The Working Man, Bon Jovi_

**Sam stood in the empty cemetery. Out of sight behind him waited Dean and Alex in their respective cars.**

'**It's a truck!' He could almost hear the world weary growl of his uncle's voice, correcting him, like he had the first time he had befouled the good name of Alex's pick up. Looking back at the grave, he cleared his throat, trying to dislodge the lump that seemed an almost permanent fixture these days. 'I, um,' He chuckled. 'You always said roses were, were lame, so I brought you uh,' Sam caught sight of the photograph of Jess on the grave and choked back the tears that threatened to fall. 'Jess, oh God.' The tears began to fall. 'I should have protected you. I should have told you the truth.' He went to set the flowers on the grave, but before they even touched the ground, a pale, mottled hand shot out of the earth, grabbing his wrist in a vice-like grip.**

Sam jerked awake to find himself sitting in the Impala. His chest heaved as he sucked in air, and his brow was covered in sweat.

'You OK?' Dean asked, glancing over before returning his gaze to the road ahead.

'Yeah, I'm fine,' Sam said, defensive.

Dean nodded, showing that whatever Sammy's peddling, he ain't buying. 'Another nightmare?'

Sam cleared his throat, not wanting to answer. There was silence for a while, until Dean spoke up again, referencing last night's conversation. 'You wanna drive for a while?'

Sam laughed. 'In your whole life, you never once asked me that. I asked _you_ last night.'

'Just thought you might want to, never mind,' Dean answered, his voice clipped. Sam instantly felt guilty.

'Look man, you're worried about me. I get it, and thank you, but I'm perfectly OK'

'Sammy, last night you told me your girlfriend died, taking your unborn child with her. You're telling me you're OK?' Dean said in disbelief.

Sam rephrased it. 'OK, maybe I'm not OK. But I will be. I swear.'

'Mm hmm,' Dean hummed, clearly still not buying it.

'Alright,' Sam said, changing the subject. 'Where are we?

'We are… just outside of Grand Junction,' Dean said, consulting his crumpled and torn map. Sam swiveled it round, picking it up and perusing it.

'You know what?' he said thoughtfully. 'Maybe we shouldn't have left Stanford so soon.'

'Sam, we dug around there for a week, we came up with nothing. If you wanna find the thing that killed Jessica-'

'We gotta find Dad first,' Sam finished, interrupting the smaller man.

'Dad disappearing, and this thing showing up again after twenty years, it's no coincidence. Dad will have answers, he'll know what to do,' Dean kept repeating this, like a mantra. Sam still didn't understand the blind faith Dean had in his father.

It's weird man.' Sam said, rechecking the coordinates. 'These coordinates he left us, this Blackwater Ridge…'

'What about it?'

Sam rechecked them again. 'There's nothing there, it's just woods. Why is he sending us to the middle of nowhere?'

Dean shrugged, and they drove in silence until they reached a sign that said 'Welcome to Lost Creek, Colorado'. They pulled in by a building with a small plaque reading 'Visitor Centre', and climbed out of the car as Alex parked beside them, his beat up black pick up dwarfing the not exactly small Impala.

He climbed down, surveying the woods around him. 'Well, this looks like a fun place,' he said, deadpan.

'No shit, Sherlock,' Dean added, crunching on his ever present peanut M and M's. 'Let's see if there's anything even funner happening inside.'

'Dude, funner?' Sam said, raising an eyebrow.

Alex laughed, leading the way. 'He's got ya there, kiddo.'

--

Inside, Dean was examined a poster, a giant grizzly bear rearing up on its hind legs.

'So, Blackwater Ridge is pretty remote. It's cut off my these canyons here, rough terrain, dense forest, abandoned silver and gold mines all over the place.' Sam said, looking around while Alex prowled the small gift shop.

'Dude, check out the size of this freakin' bear,' Dean said, laughing. Alex came over to see.

'Dude,' he said, amazed.

Sam rolled his eyes, and kept talking, hoping something would sink into their thick skulls.

'And a dozen or more grizzlies in the area. It's no nature hike, that's for sure.' Sam finished, but they both continued to make bear jokes.

'You boys aren't planning on going out near Blackwater Ridge by any chance?' A voice behind Sam made them all turn. A man wearing a park ranger uniform and hat was standing behind the counter.

'Oh, no sir, we're environmental study majors from UC Boulder, just working on a paper.'

The ranger looked at Alex, who was clearly quite a bit older than the average student. 'Mature student,' Dean said, grinning.

'Recycle, man,' Alex added, his grin matching Dean's. The ranger observed them for a second, before deciding.

Bull,' he stated. 'You're friends with that Hailey girl, right?'

_Busted, _thought Dean, before covering. 'Yes, yes we are, ranger,' he peered at the nametag. 'Wilkinson.'

'Well, I will tell you exactly what we told her. Her brother filled out a backcountry permit saying he wouldn't be back from Blackwater till the twenty fourth, so it's not exactly a missing persons now, is it?' Dean shook his head, mute. 'You tell that girl to quit worrying, I'm sure her brother's just fine.'

'We will,' said Dean, smiling his law enforcement smile. 'Well, that Hailey girl's quite a pistol, huh?'

The ranger smirked. 'That is putting it mildly.'

'Actually,' Dean added, seemingly as an afterthought. 'You know what would help? If I could show her a copy of that backcountry permit. You know, so she could see her brother's return date.'

Oh, sure,' the ranger said, turning and digging through an untidy file cabinet.

--

The Winchesters wandered out of the building, Dean tucking a copy of the permit into his pocket, laughing along with Alex.

'Honestly,' he was saying. 'If rangers are _that _stupid, they deserve to be eaten by bears.'

'Too true,' Dean agreed, before turning his attention to the silent Sam. 'Why so serious, Sammy?'

Sam gestured at the permit. 'What? Are you cruising for a hook up or something?'

Alex sniggered.

'What do you mean?' Dean asked, genuinely confused.

'The coordinates point to Blackwater Ridge, so what are we waiting for? Let's just go find Dad. I mean, why even talk to this girl?'

Oh, I dunno,' Dean started snappily. 'Maybe we should know what we're walking into before we actually walk into it?'

'What?' Sam was suddenly defensive.

'Well since when are you all shoot first, ask questions later, anyway?'

'Since now.' he said coldly.

'Oh, really?' Dean replied. Alex, who until now had been watching the exchange, not wishing to stand between the brothers, stepped in.

'Guys. I know you want to find John, but right now, there might be someone out there that needs our help. So can you put aside your witty retorts and harsh remarks until this is over?'

Dean nodded, his eyes blazing. Sam met Alex's gaze for a good minute, until nodding brusquely as well. Alex turned away, heading for his truck. 'Jesus,' he muttered. 'And I thought Dean was like John.'

'What?' Sam's voice was quiet, and deadly calm.

'I just thought, as much as you fought against John, you have a hell of a lot more in common with him that I ever will,' Alex said evenly, trying not to provoke him.

'I am nothing like my father,' Sam snarled.

'You keep telling yourself that kid,' he said, before climbing into his pick up and starting the engine. Dean said nothing, just unlocking the Impala and waiting for Sam to get in the passenger seat before he shut the door and drove off, checking the rear view mirror to make sure Alex was keeping up in his monster of a truck.

--

They pulled up outside Hailey's house, Dean rummaging through his box of fake ID's and digging out a couple of old-ish Park Ranger badges from a hunt five or six years ago. Sam looked at his quietly, before looking up at Dean. 'You kept all my ID's, all these years? Even after I left?'

Dean nodded, embarrassed.

'Why?'

I guess, I just always hoped you'd come back. Besides, the photos were all I had of you, I couldn't let them go. Not yet.'

Sam was silent, touched by the raw emotion and honesty in Dean's voice. He sat with his head bowed, pretending to be looking through the ID's, checking them, but somehow Sam knew, like himself, that his big brother was fighting back the tears.

'Hey.' He grasped his shoulder. 'I'm back now. I'm not goin' anywhere, until we send this sonuvabitch back to where it belongs.'

Dean cleared his throat and climbed out of the car, not even a backwards glance. He met Alex at the end of the drive and they started walking up the path. Sam hurried to join them, slipping the ID in his pocket and checking that his ever present 9mm Glock was stuck firmly in the waistband of his jeans.

Dean knocked on the door, and a young woman, maybe nineteen or twenty with shoulder length curly hair opened the inner door, leaving the screen door shut. 'You must be Hailey Collins,' Dean started, his official law enforcement voice firmly in place. 'I'm Dean, this is Sam and Alex. We're rangers with the park service. Ranger Wilkinson sent us over; we wanted to ask you some questions about your brother, Tommy.'

'Let me see some ID,' she ordered nervously.

Dean held it up, pressing it against the screen door. 'Here ya go,' he said jovially.

She scrutinized it for a few moments, before unlocking the screen door to allow them in. 'Come on in,'

'Thanks,' Alex said, ducking as he entered through the low door, followed by Dean, Sam making up the rear.

Hailey glanced outside, noticing the car. 'That yours?' she asked Alex.

'Nope, mine,' Dean butted in, grinning.

'Nice car,' she commented, before shutting the door and showing them into the main room.

'So, if Tommy's not due back for a while, how do you know something's wrong?' Sam asked, sitting on the couch, looking up at Hailey and the boy who had just joined them.

'He checks in every day by cell. He e-mails photos, stupid little videos, but we haven't heard anything on over three days by now,' Hailey was clearly worried sick, but she was holding it together for some reason, maybe she was staying strong for her little brother, Sam reasoned silently.

Out loud, he opted for 'Maybe he can't get cell reception?'

'He's got a satellite phone too,' she retorted.

'Could it be he's just having fun and forgot to check in?' Alex asked, learning against a wall casually. It occurred to Sam that he had never seen Alex involve himself in a room too quickly. If he needed to get out, he could, and fast. To anyone else it was paranoia, to a hunter t meant valuable seconds to save a life. Maybe his own.

'He wouldn't do that,' the boy chipped in, still refusing to venture far from Hailey's side.

'Our parents are gone, it's just my two brothers and me,' Hailey added. 'We all keep pretty close tabs on each other.'

'Can we see the photos he sent you?' Alex asked from his position against the wall.

Hailey nodded, opening the laptop on the coffee table. 'That's Tommy.' She said, as she played a video that he'd obviously recorded himself.

'_Hey Hailey, day six, we're still out near Blackwater Ridge, we're fine, keeping safe, so don't worry, talk to you tomorrow.'_

Sam, watched the video, frowning as he saw a flash in the background. He replayed it again.

'Well, we'll find your brother, we're headin out to Blackwater Ridge first thing,' Dean said, steering the conversation to a close. They really needed to get to a motel and think up a plan of action.

'Then maybe I'll see you there,' Hailey replied, surprising them all. Alex and Dean looked at her, frowning. Sam was still replaying the video to himself. 'Look, I can't sit around here anymore, so I hired a guide. I'm heading out in the morning and I'm gonna find Tommy myself.'

'I think I know how you feel,' Dean said quietly, sneaking a look at Sam that he didn't think anyone had seen.

'Hey, you mind forwarding these to me?' Sam asked, changing the subject.

'Sure.'

--

After dropping off bags and equipment at a motel, the guys headed for a bar to discuss tomorrow over a beer or two. While Alex was at the bar, flirting with the bartender and ordering drinks, Sam was pulling newspaper articles out of his bag while he talked in a hurried and hushed tone. 'So, Blackwater Ridge doesn't get a lot of traffic, local campers mostly. But still, this past April, two hikers went missing out there, they were never found.'

'Any before that?' Alex asked, returning with three beers.

'Yeah, in 1982, eight different people all vanished in the same year. Authorities said it was a grizzly attack. And again in 1959 and again before that in 1936. Every twenty three years, just like clockwork,' he paused for a moment to pull his laptop out, flipping it open and loading the video from Hailey. 'OK, watch this. Here's a clincher. I downloading this guy Tommy's video to the laptop. Check this out.' Sam played the video frame by frame. A dark shadow moved past the tent, just for a second.

'Whoa,' exclaimed Alex, taking a swig of his beer.

'Do it again,' said Dean. Sam did so.

'That's three frames. That's a fraction of a second. Whatever that thing is, it can move.'

'No kidding,' muttered Alex.

Dean punched Sam's shoulder lightly. 'Told ya something weird was goin on.'

'Yeah,' Sam replied unenthusiastically. 'I got one more thing. In 'fifty nine, one camper survived this supposed grizzly attack. Just a kid, barely crawled out of the woods alive.'

'Is there a name?'

Sam smiled. 'Would I bother if there wasn't?'

--

They were sitting in a tidy front room, everything with it's own place. Much like their motel room before Dean moved in. The owner, Mr Shaw, was talking to them about the attack forty six years ago. 'Look, ranger, I don't know why you're askin me about this. It's public record; I was a kid. My parents got mauled by a-'

'Grizzly?' Sam interrupted. 'That's what attacked em?'

Mr Shaw paused, before nodding.

'The other people that went missing that year. Those bear attacks too? What about all the people that went missing this year? Same thing?' Dean said, getting angry. Some people wouldn't look at what was right in front of them. It didn't fit with their view of the world, so they locked it away and convinced themselves it was something normal. Horrible and vicious, but normal. And it pissed him off.

'If we knew what we were dealing with, we might be able to stop it.' Alex said, his first words since the bar.

'I seriously doubt that. Anyways, I don't see what different it would make. You wouldn't believe me, nobody ever did.' Mr Shaw said, staring at the floor.

'Mr Shaw?' Sam said softly. 'What did you see?'

'Nothing. It moved too fast to see, it hid too well. I heard it though, a roar, like… no man or animal I ever heard.'

'It came at night?' Alex asked, leaning forward slightly. His theory of Wendigo was looking more and more legit. Shaw nodded.

'Got inside your tent?'

'It got inside our cabin,' he corrected, before continuing. 'I was sleepin in front of the fireplace when it came in. It didn't smash a window or break the door, it unlocked it. Do you know of a bear that could do something like that? I didn't even wake up until I heard my parents screaming.'

'It killed them?' Sam asked.

'Dragged em off into the night. Why it left me alive… been askin myself that ever since. Did leave me this though.' He opened his shirt, showing them three long jagged scars, like he had been raked with claws. It looked painful. 'There's something evil in those woods,' he said, looking Alex in the eye. 'It was some sort of demon.'

--

Next chapter coming up ASAP!


	8. Wendigo: Should I Stay Or Should I Go?

SPOILERS FOR WENDIGO

I own nothing, only Alex. Should be getting through updates much faster now that I have a new updating system. Well, in theory. We all know how well communism works in theory, after all.

--

They left Shaw's house, talking quietly amongst themselves. Or rather, Sam and Dean did, Alex followed them, seemingly lost in his train of thought.

'Spirits and demons don't have to unlock doors,' Dean said, more to himself than anyone else. 'If they want inside they just go through the walls.'

Sam joined in. 'So it's probably something else, something corporeal.' Their earlier argument seemed to have been forgotten, or at least was being ignored. Vintage Dean. He couldn't deal with things, so he pretended nothing had happened.

'Corporeal?'Dean cocked an eyebrow. 'Excuse me, Professor.'

Sam spared a scathing glance. 'Shut up. So what do you think?'

Alex spoke up, his deep voice a shock from the relative silence both brothers had been expecting of him. Sam realised that he had a faint southern accent, much like Dean, a remnant of his all too brief childhood in Kansas, but much more pronounced, lilting his vowels. Texas, maybe. 'The claws, the speed that it moves, could be a skin walked, maybe a black dog. Whatever we're talking about, we're talking about a creature and it's 'corporeal'.' At this, he glanced at Sam, a mocking edge in his voice. Sam's jaw hardened and he made a miniscule move towards his uncle, but Dean cut in, glaring first at Alex, then Sam.

'Which means we can kill it.' They reached the car and he popped the trunk, lifting the false bottom and propping it up with a shotgun, muttering under his breath. 'If we don't kill each other first.'

Alex smirked, but Sam glared at him again. He didn't trust Alex. If he was dad's brother, then why hadn't he been mentioned before now? Why had they never met? Alex clearly had his own motivations, and until he revealed them, Sam was going to treat him like Dean should have. Like a possible threat. 'We can't let that Hailey girl go out there,' he said, rejoining the conversation.

'Oh yeah?' Alex retorted. 'What are we gonna tell her? That she can't go into the woods because of a big scary monster?'

'Yeah,' said Sam, working hard to keep his voice even and steady. He was this close to lashing out, and he didn't want to do that. So he kept his voice cool.

'Her brother's missing, Sam. She's not just gonna sit this out. Now, we go with her, we protect her and we keep our eyes peeled for our fuzzy predator friend.' Dean intervening again, being the peacekeeper for a change. Usually it was Sam pulling his brother off whatever drunk he'd picked a fight with in the bar they happened to be drinking at on any given night.

'Finding Dad's not enough?' Sam snapped, slamming the trunk shut. Alex whipped his hand out of the way just in time to keep it. 'Now we gotta babysit too?'

Dean stared at Sam in disbelief. _Never _had he put Dad before anyone else, even perfect strangers.

'What?' he asked, oblivious.

Dean shrugged. 'Nothin'.' He threw the duffel bag at Sam before heading to the driver's side, slamming the door shut after him, but not with the same kind of force Sam slammed the trunk with. He'd never hurt his baby.

Sam turned to face Alex, who was giving him the same look. 'What?' Sam tried again.

There was silence for a few minutes, until he answered. 'Kid, you are all kinds of messed up,' he said sadly. Then he walked away, climbing into the cab of his truck and starting the engine, following Dean's lead once again. Sam just got in the car, silently, reflecting on what had just happened. So he wanted to find Dad. What was so wrong about that? He shook his head, flinching as Dean slid The Clash into the tape player and 'I Fought The Law' came on, full volume.

'Dude, turn the music down.'

Dean rolled his eyes, skipping through the songs until 'Should I Stay Or Should I Go?' came on. He started nodding slightly in time with the music.

_Darling you gotta let me know  
Should I stay or should I go?  
If you say that you are mine  
Ill be here til the end of time  
So you got to let know  
Should I stay or should I go?_

Sam growled and hit the volume button grumpily, quieting the pounding chorus.

Dean's eyes slid off the road, squinting at his brother, who was glaring out of the window, hands curled into huge fists. Suddenly, he twisted the wheel and sent them careening off the road into a lay-by, Alex's truck flying past before he had a chance to react.

'Alright, start talkin',' Dean said, folding his arms and shifting in his seat to face the younger Winchester.

'What about?' he snapped, feigning ignorance.

'Since when have you calling saving lives 'babysitting'?' Dean asked, turning the music down to a dull roar. 'Sometimes it's like I don't even know who you are anymore. Has college changed you that much?'

'No.' Sam turned to face his brother, looking him in the eye for the first time in a long time. 'Jess did. I have to find her killer, and I'm not gonna be able to stop until I find it and kill it. And to do that, I have to find Dad, and if that means letting some people die, then that's a chance I'm willing to take.'

Dean stared at him, horrified. 'Who _are_ you? 'Cause you're just made sure that I have no clue. Hell, you look like my brother, but Sammy would never, _never, _put his own happiness and petty revenge before the lives of innocent people.'

Sam shrugged, looking at his feet.

'Sammy, you have to snap out of this destructive mode you're in. You're only gonna keep hurting, you're gonna hurt yourself and everything else around you.'

'How would you know that?'

'Because I've fucking lived it!' Dean roared, and Sam cringed, scared. Something that didn't happen often, but because of his size, Sam sometimes forgot Dean was the older brother. Not anymore. His green eyes flared with anger, and he seemed to grow, filling the car with his rage. 'You left. _You_. Not me. I stayed behind, on my own, while you swanned off to Stanford.'

'Yeah. I went to college. Dad told me not to bother coming back. So I didn't. And for the first time in a long time, I was happy there.'

'Then maybe you should have stayed there!' Dean lashed out, not caring about the words.

Sam's face fell momentarily, but he forced his anger back to the top. 'Yeah. Maybe I should have.'

Dean said nothing to that, merely turning the engine back on and driving to the motel in silence. Pulling into the parking space, he opened the car door and climbed out, walking off in the direction they had just driven in. Sam watched him leave, before getting out and shouting after him. 'Dean!'

Dean turned back to look at him, and Sam watched a single tear slide down his face. 'You may be alright with this, but I can't watch you destroy yourself. I can't lose you, cos losing you would kill me, but maybe, just maybe, I can survive without you being next to me. All I know is, I won't watch you die. You might be willing die for me, but you can't make me live with that decision. So this is me, walking away.'

'Dean!' Sam kept shouting, but Dean kept walking. So he stopped yelling and went back to the car, defeated.

_What do I do now? _He asked himself. His answer had always been, and could have been, go to Dean. But he couldn't. So he went to the next best thing.

Alex opened the door, bleary eyed and shirtless. 'Whaddya want kid?' he mumbled, looking over Sam's shoulder. 'Where's Dean?'

'He's gone.'

'Where?' Alex asked, instantly more alert.

Sam shrugged. 'Dunno. I watched him leave.

'Why?'

Another shrug.

'Is he coming back?'

A third shrug.

'Aww, hell. Damnit, Dean! What the hell have you gone and done now?'

--

Ok, a shorter chapter here, since my muse seems hellbent on ripping Sam and Dean's relationship apart from the get go. I'm fighting as hard as I can, I swear!

Hope everyone had a good Christmas/Hannukah/Kwanza etc.

Will try and update faster next time!


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